The Bitterness of Wolfsbane
by Snarky64
Summary: Remus Lupin has lived with prejudice for as long as he can remember. Can an experimental potion set him free from the Lycanthropic curse? A story written as part of the Teachers' Lounge 2013 Holiday Exchange for Serenity Blaidd.


Christmas Gift Prompt:

"_Damocles Belby invented Wolfsbane Potion some time between Halloween 1981 and start of The Prisoner of Azkaban. To create and perfect his potion he needed a willing werewolf test subject. Remus had nothing left to lose. I would love to read a story about Remus choosing to help Damocles and the invention of Wolfsbane Potion."_

For Serenity Blaidd, Merry Christmas!

* * *

**The Bitterness of Wolfsbane**

**I. Introductions**

Remus Lupin checked the address on the parchment once more and squinted at the tiny plaque on the door.

_~ Damocles Belby, Fellow of the Most Extraordinary Society of Potioneers ~_

This was definitely the place. He didn't know why he was so nervous, and yet the palms of his hands were slick and his stomach fluttered with excitement and dread mixed. He breathed deeply to calm himself.

"It's not a cure, but a potion to help the transformed werewolf keep his mind," Dumbledore had said when he had asked Lupin if he would be prepared to assist Damocles Belby and act as his first test subject.

_To keep his mind._

For as long as Lupin could remember, he had feared the monster he became at the full moon. He feared that he could kill or make another monster just like himself. No pity could move the beast; no argument could reason with it. It was the consummate predator.

His friends had helped him every full moon. Having their company in their Animagus forms had seemed to soothe the beast – they could distract him – play – run – chase! Or so they told him. Lupin never remembered.

All Lupin recalled of his transformations was the pain: the pain of transforming; the pain of reverting; the pain of the damage the beast did to him. At least, with his friends, the beast didn't attack his own flesh. And that had been wonderful. He would always be exhausted afterwards, and sometimes there was also damage but so much less damage than before. But even that had paled into insignificance because he had friends - and those friends had accepted the Dark creature in their midst. It had been something he had never believed he could have had.

But he didn't have them any more. His friends were gone. Two dead - the other in Azkaban.

His transformations since that Hallowe'en had been horrific. He had forgotten just how horrendous they were without his friends.

Worrying at the paper in his hands, he realised that, if his friends still lived, he would not be seeking Damocles Belby now: the full moons with his friends had been some of the happiest times of his life and he would not have even considered being elsewhere. But they weren't here. He had to move on – there was no choice.

He looked at the name plate once more and, inhaling deeply, he rapped on the door.

A small wizard answered. He had keen, pale eyes set in a wizened face, framed by wiry, unkempt hair. He wore over-large robes trimmed with alchemical symbols. Lupin couldn't help but wonder if such robes were practical for brewing.

"Well? Who are you? What do you want? I don't buy at the door. Don't think you can hoodwink me," the wizard said, somewhat querulously, eyeing Lupin's patched robes.

"Remus Lupin, sir. Professor Dumbledore sent me." Lupin bobbed his head as he spoke. Instantly, the wizard's face lit up with a smile of welcome.

"Come in! Come in!" the small wizard said, as he scampered along the corridor, leading Lupin into his laboratory. Lupin had never seen such disarray. Scrolls of parchment littered every surface. All manner of ingredients in jars and phials, great and small, were crammed onto shelves ranged along every wall. Great cauldrons stood on the floor, with different concoctions bubbling away in each: purple, iridescent silver, yellow and shimmering scarlet.

"Recognise any of them?" asked Damocles, grabbing an armful of scrolls from his own chair. "Albus told me you were quite the student at Hogwarts."

Lupin peered into each, but he couldn't identify any of the potions brewing there, although each had a stench which assailed his senses. The thought came unbidden: _Lily would have been able to_. He cursed himself inwardly, but smiled outwardly.

"Potions was never my strong subject," he replied, mildly.

"No, I suppose not. Difficult for a Lycanthrope to bear the smells, I would imagine," Damocles said, thoughtfully. "Sit down! Sit, sit, sit." Damocles sat and pulled a quill and parchment to himself. He poised his quill and then looked up at Lupin expectantly. "Well! Tell me everything then."

Lupin blinked. He had assumed the first interview might be a little more structured, but then, he wasn't the potions genius. "Everything? I ... um ..."

"Yes, indeed. Everything! Dear me, you are a bit slow, aren't you? Who you are, your parents, when you were bitten ... everything!" Damocles waved his arms expansively.

Lupin spent a total of four days with Damocles. There was no detail too minor or fact too obscure for the inventor's notes. Only once Damocles was satisfied that Lupin had no more to tell did he move on to examining Lupin, noting his height, weight, every injury, every scar, his eyesight, his hearing, taste and smell tests, cognitive reasoning and even his ability to cast spells.

Lupin was convinced there could be nothing more that Damocles could possibly test, and it was then that the inventor settled back in his chair, steepling his fingers, as he regarded Lupin intently.

"Has Albus told you anything about this potion?"

"Only that it might enable me to keep my human mind when I've transformed."

Damocles nodded vigorously. "Yes, yes, but did he tell you why I believe it will? This potion hasn't been tested on a werewolf yet. You will be the first. It's risky and it will probably fail the first time, and possibly many times after until I get it right. I undertook all those tests so I can measure if there are any side-effects serious enough to disable you in any way."

Damocles gaze was disturbingly direct and Lupin swallowed nervously.

"I think – I believe the outcome will be worth the risk," said Lupin, finally.

"Good!" Damocles clapped his hands together. "For many years, the flower of the Aconite plant was rumoured to repel werewolves. It's an old wives' tale, of course, just like silver or like garlic and vampires. Smother yourself in garlic and make yourself a tasty treat for a vampire!" Damocles laughed at his own joke.

"If I may," interrupted Lupin, "the smell of Aconite in a potion has always had a profound effect on me."

Damocles stopped smiling. "Indeed. Like most myths, there is often a grain of truth. The smell will make you queasy but it wouldn't stop a transformed werewolf attacking someone. But, yes, that is how my research started. There is clearly something in the plant that affects a Lycanthrope because I have never found a human who is affected by it."

Lupin kept his expression bland as Damocles described his researches, but he felt the familiar shame that this man considered him other than human. It made him aware again that those few who had considered him human were gone from him – forever. This potion was his only hope for something like a life as a wizard.

**II. The First Full Moon**

Lupin had managed to overcome the overwhelming tiredness and aching that always preceded the rise of the full moon and arrived at Damocles' premises once more. Damocles was just as effusive as he had been previously, although today Lupin found it rather tiring to appear engaged and polite. But years of practice had trained him well.

Damocles showed Lupin the spare bedroom in which he would recover the next day and then the cellar in which he would transform, and then demonstrated the safety charms he'd put in place in case the potion wasn't fully effective. There were blankets folded in the corner and a light overhead. A small fanlight window was the only source of natural light. Lupin spotted an alcove in the wall just above his eye line.

"And that's for you to store your clothes and wand – just in case."

"Good idea," agreed Lupin gratefully. He really couldn't afford to replace his clothes.

"Let's try it then, shall we?" said Damocles and took Lupin back to the laboratory and ladled out some of the potion into a goblet. Blue smoke shimmered and the familiar aroma of aconite made Lupin's nose wrinkle. A vague flutter of panic started in his gut. What if he was poisoned?

"Come now. No time like the present."

Lupin looked from the potion to Damocles and back again. _No, no time like the present._

He took the goblet and sipped. The bitterness that hit his taste buds was so vile that he began to choke and gasp as he bent double. Damocles slapped Lupin's back until he had stopped choking.

"That's ghastly!" Lupin croaked.

"I'm sorry, my boy. I'll try to work on the taste, I promise. Now, let's get you downstairs."

The two men made their way down to the cellar and Lupin picked up one of the blankets, ready to wrap around himself as he waited for the moon to rise.

"I don't think you should stay," said Lupin.

"I'm quite confident in the safety charms."

"Even so," said Lupin. "I don't think it's worth the risk."

Damocles looked petulant and Lupin recalled how Damocles had first appeared to him. "How else will I verify my results?"

"If it works, I'll tell you and you can verify the results at the next full moon," said Lupin firmly.

"Very well," Damocles sighed and slowly ascended the stairs. Lupin quickly undressed and stowed his clothes and wand in the alcove and wrapped the blanket around himself to wait.

Suddenly, at the top of the stairs, Damocles opened the door again abruptly and exclaimed, "I know what we'll do! We can ..."

But whatever he knew was lost as moonlight glanced across Lupin's face and his body began to tremble and he knew immediately that the potion had failed. The red mist of blood lust descended as he heard the hurriedly incanted locking spells and then Lupin knew no more.

**III. The Fifth Full Moon**

Over the next three months, Damocles increased the number of days for Lupin to take the revolting draught of the aconite potion before the full moon. Each time, it failed.

Damocles' idea on that first trial had been to provide a box of solid wood blocks with letters of the alphabet printed on each face. The wolf would not be able to destroy them, but – if it worked – perhaps Lupin could spell out a word or two. But the blocks remained in a pile, gathering dust as the months passed.

This month, they were trying five draughts over five consecutive days and this night was the night of the full moon and the fifth draught.

Lupin breathed deeply to calm himself. The blue smoke rose and Lupin steeled himself for the atrocious taste.

_Maybe this month? Please let it be this month._

Lupin screwed his eyes shut and drank the foul-tasting potion, trying not to gag but failing utterly. Damocles peered at him as he began to breathe normally again.

"Come then, Remus. Let us hope that fortune favours us this night!"

~oOo~

Lupin was bathed in moonlight as he clawed at his throat, rasping for breath.

_Heaven help me! _he thought in his panic, but already he could feel that this night would be different.

His limbs shook as his spine tore itself into a new shape. Lupin screamed and the scream became the howl. For the first time, Lupin heard himself howl like a wolf in agony, the pain continuing as his bones broke and re-formed.

His mind could not even hold on to a prayer for mercy as the pain continued because his human consciousness continued. He had never remembered the experience of the fur pushing through his skin or his teeth retracting as his jaw elongated and different teeth forming.

The pain was seemingly endless! Without being consumed by the wolf's mind, he endured more pain than he could ever remember. But just when he thought he could bear it no more, it ceased.

Panting, his tongue lolling, dog-like, the wolf stood shakily, his head bowed. Lupin opened his eyes and tried to focus.

Colour! Not as many colours as he was used to, he was sure, but more than he'd expected. And noises! So many more noises – the scratching of rats, the fluttering of a moth's wings flying too close to the light above, the movement overhead of Damocles, pacing the floor.

Scents – they were so round, they were almost solid, like food. He could smell Damocles upstairs; he could smell his own blood, fur, sweat. He could even smell the potion seeping from his pores. Lupin's mind tried to grasp the sensations – to name them – but his mind was reeling from their onslaught. And then another memory: _these canine sensations are what Sirius tried to describe to me once._

_No! Not Sirius!_ He would not think of that murderer. He subdued the thought and concentrated on the new sights and sounds and smells. Had he hurt himself? He ached all over and he was so tired, but as he took his first ginger steps around the cellar, he realised he'd sustained no other injuries.

He sat and looked around, still grappling with the enormity of it. It didn't matter that it wasn't a cure. That would have been miraculous indeed. It didn't even matter that it had been so excruciating - because he had kept his mind – his human mind.

He remembered the wooden blocks and padded over to them. He stretched out his paw and then withdrew it, feeling stupid. He wouldn't be able to pick up anything with those! His head leant to one side and then the other as he tried to work out how to extract the letters he needed. Then, he nudged the pile with his black, leathery nose. His nose was surprisingly sensitive and he sneezed. Then he patted the pile with his forepaw to knock the letters over and, one by one, scraped the individual letters he wanted away from the collapsed pile and along the floor towards the base of the magical shield. Then he realised that he only had one of each letter. He made a small whine of frustration as he realised he didn't have enough letters to construct a proper sentence. Gradually, he managed to line them up in a row, albeit it little messily, and spelt out:

R J LUPIN

He wanted to spell "It works" but he didn't have an additional 'i' or 'r'. He found himself oddly cross about that, and then amused. He shuffled back and gazed on his work. Hopefully, it would be the first thing Damocles would see after the moon had set. He would know then: know it was a success.

Lupin looked around the cellar once more and noticed the small fanlight window. He went and sat under it and saw the full moon. He wanted to weep as he watched the moon, great and white, in the sky above him. He had no memory of ever seeing a full moon. He had been so young when he was bitten and then a mindless beast ever after.

But now, he saw her. She was beautiful and ethereal. He thought he might watch her all night, but his eyelids became heavy. He suspected the tiredness was induced by the potion. The wolf laid his muzzle on his forepaws and Lupin wondered what it would be like to run in the moonlight ... safe, like a domestic dog ... run freely, through the great old trees of the forbidden forest, with his friends.

He cut the thought dead. They were gone. His friends were gone – there was no stag; no rat. The dog had killed them ... killed them all.

The wolf whimpered and stood again, its shortened tufted tail drooping as he paced the cellar. But he was exhausted and, after padding circuits of the room a few more times, he circled on the spot and curled up on the floor once more and allowed his eyes to close.

Animagus creatures danced silhouetted against the moon and, as sadness overwhelmed him, Lupin wondered if this _was_ a memory, recalled by the body of the werewolf. The golden eyes closed again. The stag pranced, the dog bounded and the rat skittered. As Lupin's consciousness drifted away, the form of a wolf joined the frolic under the whiteness of the moon.

~oOo~

"Remus! Remus, my boy!"

Lupin tried to open his eyes but the sunlight was too bright and too sharp. He turned his head away from the light, licking his chapped lips, his throat too parched to speak. Damocles helped Lupin to lift his head and gave him a drink of water.

"We've done it! You kept your mind! I saw your message," he jabbered excitedly as Lupin drank, at first tentatively and then greedily. "Such a breakthrough! You'll have to tell me all about it – when you're stronger."

Damocles let Lupin's head rest gently back on the pillow and poured out some potions, as Lupin contemplated the wonder of keeping his mind. Next month would be better again. A warm glow pervaded his chest.

"Come on then," Damocles encouraged Lupin. "Blood replenisher and pain reliever."

Lupin took them and managed a weak smile and whispered, "At least they're not as bitter as that wolfsbane." Then, he coughed and closed his eyes again, too tired to tell Damocles just how miraculous he thought it was.

"Wolfsbane? Yes, yes! We'll call it Wolfsbane!"

**IV. The Seventh Moon**

"I've been experimenting to try to remove that bitterness," said Damocles, as he ushered Lupin in for his first dose of the cycle.

"Is that possible?" said Lupin. "I'd hate to compromise its efficacy just for the sake of bitterness."

"Hm, I think so. I tried adding various sweetening properties, sugar and so on, but that unbalances the potion and reduces the active ingredient's potency so ... well, I've wracked my brains as to what I can do and I do believe I've cracked it." He ladled out a measure of the potion into a goblet and presented it to Lupin. "If I ensure no stalk of Aconite is present, I believe that will alleviate the bitterness!" Damocles exclaimed.

"I hope that's not too wasteful," Lupin said.

"Oh! There's always other uses for aconite, don't you worry!" Damocles pointed to a jar housing the discarded stalks. "I don't think much of a brewer who won't inconvenience himself to make a potion the best it can be."

The goblet smoked just as before, and Lupin wondered if the dreadful taste would still choke him. Damocles watched him expectantly, nodding with a smile of encouragement.

"Oh well. Cheers!" said Lupin, screwing his eyes shut as he swallowed the first mouthful. He opened his eyes wide. It wasn't foul! It wasn't nice, but that was irrelevant. All that mattered was that it didn't choke him. He grinned at Damocles who grinned back and urged him to take another gulp.

"If your transformation goes well tonight, I shall file for a Wizarding patent tomorrow and look to publish my findings. With any luck, I'll get funding for full scale clinical trials. Of course, you'll remain part of the trial."

"That's wonderful!" said Lupin, smiling broadly now, hoping with all his might that someone – somewhere – would consider a werewolf medication worth commercial exploitation.

**V. One Year Later**

Lupin folded the newspaper carefully and held it in front of his meagre breakfast so he could read the small column on page 27 whilst eating.

_**Order of Merlin for the Inventor of Wolfsbane!**_

_Damocles Belby has been awarded the Order of Merlin, second class, for inventing a highly controversial potion which purports to enable a werewolf to retain its human intelligence during its full moon transformation. _

_The Most Extraordinary Society of Potioneers has been conducting clinical trials over the past year and has reported a complete success rate with several test subjects provided strict adherence is kept to a daily regimen of the potion. There has been speculation that the Department for the Control and Regulation of Magical Creatures may subsidise the potion to ensure the safety of transformed werewolves following the proposal of such subsidy by Chief Warlock Albus Dumbledore to the Wizengamot. _

Lupin gasped, a faint flicker of hope kindling in him. Could this be his passport to a regular job? A future?

_However, there has been vocal opposition to such Ministry spending hard-earned tax galleons on werewolves when in their Beast state. Ministry official, Lucius Malfoy, provided the following statement to The Daily Prophet. _

'_I understand that this potion is remarkably complex and expensive to brew. Notwithstanding its undoubted efficacy, we in authority must ensure that our taxes are spent on those deserving of our help and philanthropy. There can be no doubt that Master Belby's potion is a tremendous leap forward, but perhaps the question should be: do we want Dark Creatures at the peak of their strength on the night when their curse is most contagious to be coupled with human intelligence? I think not.'_

_It is widely anticipated that Master Belby will abandon the Wolfsbane study now he has conquered that intellectual challenge and accept a bursary from the Malfoy Fund for Wizarding Welfare to undertake research into Spattergroit, the disease that has continued to defy other potioneers' efforts to find a cure …_

Lupin closed his eyes. It was over then, his dream of employment – of something like a normal life. What job could he ever have if he didn't have access to Wolfsbane or a potioneer capable enough to brew it? Lupin found he was no longer hungry as his hand dropped to his side and the newspaper tumbled to the floor.

**VI. Epilogue: September 1993**

"There's nothing I can do about the bitterness," drawled Snape as he took the empty goblet from Lupin's hand.

Lupin almost agreed that Snape seemed to be unable to do anything about his own bitterness, but he bit the thought back. It would be easy to point out that Lupin knew Damocles had been able to circumvent the bitter aftertaste with just a modicum of care. It would be easy to say, "Just ensure you don't include any of the aconite stalk, just the root. Damocles himself told me that." It would be easy to mortify Snape in front of those teachers sitting in the staff room, watching Snape's every move, and perpetuate the bitterness further still.

But he wouldn't. After all, Lupin had had his fun at Snape's expense with the Boggart and, really, that had been priceless. He knew Snape would never compromise the efficacy of a potion, no matter how much he hated Lupin. So, Lupin would just take his medicine and be done with it. If he had to endure the bitter stalk of aconite just to smooth things along, what did it matter? As long as the potion worked, that was all that mattered.

'_I don't think much of a brewer who won't inconvenience himself to make the potion the best it can be,' _Lupin remembered_._ A small smile quirked at the corners of his mouth. He wanted to say, "Cheers!" but thought the better of it. He suppressed the smile.

"Of course not, Severus. I understand."

**~FIN~**


End file.
